Melodious Love
by Pereybere
Summary: Booth and Brennan leave the diner to go home. Except something's different.


**Title: **Melodious Love

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **Bones belongs to Fox, blah-de blah, blah

**A/N: **I was inspired to write this, today on my day off. I am so gutted to be working again tomorrow. I hope everyone likes my romantic muse (she's woken from a slumber). I'd like to say thanks to Ajith, who is never going to read this, but who said I have an ability to express.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Music to his ears, he thought, half delirious at the almost imperceptible change their relationship had taken that evening.

After she had sang, her melodiously sweet voice not altogether sure of itself, they had sat in the diner for hours longer than what was necessary. After several cups of coffee, apple pie, a plate of fries and a banana split which they shared, they decided to leave. He dutifully offered her a ride home, which she politely declined. Their pleasantries were blatant attempts to bide time and he found it endearing.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked, wondering when their routine of summarising their cases over food had started? Quite early in their dysfunctional partnership, he realised. Brennan rattled her keys, as if she were thinking.

"If you want," she replied with a nod. Booth tipped his head.

"I do," he said. Her smooth cheeks coloured the same shade as apple blossoms and she reached out, passing her fingertips over the darkening bruises along his cheek bone, down and over the swollen corner of his lower lip. His eyes searched hers. Behind them, a diner opened the door and slid between them, forcing their bodies apart.

"Goodnight," Brennan sighed, defeated. He could see a formation of _something_ in her eyes and he could have strangled the diner at that moment.

"See you tomorrow." Booth swung his jacket over his shoulder, pleasantly chilled by the spring weather. The tepid breeze ruffled his shirt as he made his way along the street, passing under the orangey street lights. Half of him felt light and the other half… frustrated.

At his SUV, he pressed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes.

It had been one of those hard weeks that would wreak havoc with his sleep for days. It would take several good work-outs to remove the kinks of tension from his shoulders and he was numbly aware of the fact that, in a few days, the progress he and Brennan had made would be wiped away and the slate would be washed cleaned by the horrors of another sobering case.

Rapping his knuckles against the glass, he straightened. The light overhead stone on his window and he saw the desperation in his own reflection. His eyes wandered to the image behind – desperation of a different kind. A lost, lonely longing and he wondered how long Brennan had been standing behind him.

Suddenly afraid that she would recognise the longing in his eyes, he pulled a smile to his features and turned to face her.

"What did you forget?" he asked, a hint of chastising reprimand lacing his tone, not altogether serious. Brennan cleared her throat as she shoved her hands into her pockets.

"I might have left my sanity somewhere about a month back," she said, unaware of how humorous she sounded. Booth grinned. "I was worried about you." Her tone sobered and his smile faded.

"I know," he replied, reaching out to flick away a tendril of hair that had crept over her forehead. "I know everyone was and…" His mouth had grown dry as he thought of her team. They were his closest friends now and he was astounded, disbelieving perhaps, of the fact. "Thank you for what you did." What she had done was break several laws and help a fugitive escape.

"Many others wouldn't be offering thanks," she whispered, the streetlight turning her hair a tarnished gold, almost. He ached to touch it again.

"Many others don't have to know," he leaned forward and whispered back, as though they were conspiring. "Is there something else, Bones?" he asked instead of leaning back. She looked as though she might shake her head. Wipe their slate clean prematurely.

"Many things," she said at last. "Things that weren't adequately explained to me by Dr Wyatt." He felt his features betray him. They had been so careful to avoid talking about their wayward feelings in depth and for a while, Gordon Gordon had put a stop to their analysing. He should have known that she wouldn't stay contented with psychology for long.

"C'mon Bones," he said, waving his hand, "let's not rake up that old garbage again." Her features contorted in something that was almost hurt. Hurt and surprise.

"Garbage?" she sighed, rocking on her heels.

"Well," he said hurriedly, "not garbage… just…" Frustrated with himself, he waved his hand again. It was almost dismissive. "Listen, I'm just saying that things have been good since we accepted Wyatt's theory. We've grown… we've…"

"We've reverted back to our old selves and we're making no progress whatsoever." He frowned. "I liked it when you were jealous. I liked it when I thought that just maybe I was staying here because of you." Booth thought of Sully and his gut twisted.

She looked petulant because he hadn't answered.

"Well…?" he asked with a half-hearted shrug. "You know better than anyone." She folded her arms huffily. He felt like a jerk for being so insensitive when she was obviously not trying to wipe their slate clean at all. In fact, she was doing just the opposite. "Brennan-"

"I stayed because I can't imagine being with Sully for the rest of my life." His features tautened. "It was fun and passionate and I enjoyed it. A lot." He grit his teeth and his cheek throbbed painfully. "When I look at you, sullen and sensible you, I…" her fingers touched the bruises again, as though she were fascinated by them.

His lips parted slightly under her whispering touches.

"I'm not sullen," he pretended to snap and she smiled. He could hear her melodious voice and his heart squeezed.

"You know you are," she joked, their bodies close.

"Serious," he corrected. "I'm _serious_." His fingers were in her hair – of their own accord, no less. The mussed strands were tangled as he pulled her head towards his, ignoring the aching twinge of pain that shot through his mouth when her soft lips touched the wounded skin of his.

She bent back, as though she were afraid to hurt him and he insisted that she not by tightening his grip in her hair. Now that he had her so close, he was loathe to release her. Finally, after so many hours of contemplating if and when this moment would come, he had his lips against hers and she tasted to enchantingly divine.

Her lips parted under the soft insistence of his tongue, their noses brushed and he wrapped his arms around her. She sank willingly into his embrace, a soft utterance that could have been mistaken for a protest but what he knew was a murmur of pleasure, was muffled by his kiss.

He tasted banana on her tongue and was intoxicated by the wonder of it.

"Would you like a ride home?" he asked her again, their lips millimetres apart. Brennan flicked her hair.

"Will you bring me back here in the morning for my car?" she asked.

"Will I be with you in the morning?" he responded. Brennan smiled and he smiled back.

"I hope so," she said with a cheeky grin.


End file.
